"Big Brother is watching you..." More like Big Brother is falling asleep.

 

This season’s stage adaptation of 1984 may have only just started, but I was (un)lucky enough to see it last weekend at The Playhouse Theatre. But even with tickets on sale for as low as £10 (some are priced at £19.84 too - get it?) I would much rather have spent that money elsewhere.

 

Based on George Orwell’s complex and thought-provoking novel of the same name, the play is set in a dystopian, totalitarian future where society is run by an organisation known as 'The Party'. Winston Smith, the story’s seemingly passionless hero, works for the Party by erasing names, dates and places from historical documents – the Party’s intention being to control people’s perception of the past. However, after buying a diary from a secluded antique store, Winston seals his fate as a 'thought-criminal' and consequently decides to do whatever it takes to overthrow the Party and its symbolic and omniscient leader, Big Brother.

 

The play, like the novel, begins with Winston contemplating the crime he has committed. But any faithfulness to the source material ends there. The intrigue and tension that readers are treated to in the book is stripped away, and replaced with deafening noises, and questionable acting. It felt more like we were watching a GCSE drama performance, rather than a professional West-End show. The only character with any redeeming features was O’Brien, played by Angus Wright. His deep, authoritative voice suited this figure perfectly; but unfortunately, it wasn't enough to compensate for his co-stars’ unconvincing portrayals.

 

The use of a screen to show Winston and his lover Julia in their "secret" room also feels like a bit of a cop-out. It gives the impression that we're watching them through a telescreen, like the Party would. However, this could have been executed more effectively. For example, if it was shot from only one angle, rather than multiple, then this would have given the audience a more authentic perspective.

 

Some of the scenes were also repeated too many times. I understand that it was meant to show how every day was the same because of how the Party suppressed peoples’ memories – a method known as ‘doublethink’ - but in all honestly, this just hindered the progression of the story. It made the performance drag. And not to sound too sadistic, but after this slow pace, I was rather looking forward to the promise of torture in the final act.

 

But they couldn’t even get that right. If they'd simply stuck to the shock therapy that Winston is subjected to in the novel, then this sequence would easily have been the best part of the play. It would have at least made the 'you're afraid that your spine is going to break' line fit the context. Yet instead, the director settled with faceless “doctors” pulling out Winston’s fingernails and teeth. Fair enough this is done in the book, but it's done to show how he's wasting away. It's to break down his hope of mankind prevailing – and it’s what gives O’Brien’s line, 'that is the last man. If you are human, that is humanity' (Orwell, 2013; 312) so much resonance. In the play, on the other hand, it seems like they do it just for the sake of shock value. A fitting torture scene for a horror picture perhaps, but Orwell deserves better than this.

 

Even the ending wasn't quite right. They make out that in the far future the Party has been overthrown, but then plant the seed that maybe society is unknowingly still a part of the regime. But like everything else in the production, this resolution goes completely away from the novel. It’s hinted at in the appendix, yes, but is never explicitly said to happen. The overall result for any fan of the original story is the sensation of leaving the seat you’ve spent the last 100 minutes in thinking, 'meh'.

 

But if you are still planning on going to watch this, a word of warning! Despite having no signs to inform you, strobe lighting is used regularly throughout – because isn’t THAT original? Oh, and there’s no interval; so if you want to go to the toilet half way through, you won’t be let back in. Sorry.

 

Rating: 2/5
 

Orwell, George (2013), 1984, London: Penguin Books